


Dies Mercurii

by Venstar



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anon Gift Exchange, Day Off, Fluff, M/M, MI6 Anon Prompt Gift Exchange, realizing what's right in front of you, yelling into the tag aether
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: for the prompt: After a stressful week, Eve (or Bond, Q, or any other Bond character!) actually manages to have a brilliant day off
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Dies Mercurii

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon gift exchange with the mi6 cafe.

Bond stood outside the doors to MI6. His arm freshly bandaged, his hair newly shorn removing the burnt bits that he had acquired on his latest mission that hadn’t quite ended in disaster or a diplomatic catastrophe...mostly. 

After debriefing with Mallory, he had been summarily dismissed and instructed to take some long due time off.

Actually, what had happened was that he had been torn up one side and then down the other by Mallory before being kicked out of the building.

“YOU HAD ONE OBJECTIVE ON THIS MISSION. EXTRACT THE ASSET AND DELIVER THEM IN ONCE PIECE. NOT BUGGER OFF WITH THE ASSET AND DELIVER THEM IN PIECES. I BELIEVE Q ONCE PUT IT BRILLIANTLY. I SAID BRING BACK ONE PIECE, NOT PIECES!”

Bond couldn’t quite remember if Mallory had ever cursed at him before or accused him of impropriety on the job. He opened his mouth to defend himself.

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” Mallory sighed in frustration and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Q says you brought back all your equipment and terabytes of data that will keep him obscenely happy for the rest of his young life.”

Bond smiled at the image. “Glad I could be of service.”

Mallory looked up at him and narrowed his eyes. “Get out. Go. Enjoy your time off. Heal. Eat something. Visit a museum. Just get out.”

Bond gave a brief nod of the head and turned on his heel. He marched past a beleaguered Tanner and a highly amused Moneypenny. He gave them both a wink as he left the office.

And that was how he found himself stood outside MI6. For a very confident gentleman, Bond was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. That is, until Q came out of the building, distracted and scrolling through his phone. Without thinking, Bond stepped in front of the brilliant fellow...and was summarily dismissed.

“Go away or I’ll taser you,” Q said absentmindedly as he stepped around Bond, his long legs eating up the ground. 

Bond turned around and trotted after him. “Oh, now you wouldn't taser an old friend, would you?”

Q finally spared him a moment of attention and did a double-take. “Oh. You.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“Yes. Me.”

“Hmm.” Q continued on his way. “I might taser you especially.”

Bond laughed and nearly ran to catch up to Q. “I might enjoy that.”

Q rolled his eyes without looking up at Bond.

Bond settled back into silence as they continued on, Q glancing briefly up at him now and then, but other than that didn’t seem to notice that Bond had steered him down a street and over a block that didn’t lead to his house. It wasn’t until they came to a stop that Q looked up and then did another double-take as he looked up and down the street. 

“This isn’t my block. Where are we?”

Bond shrugged and held his hand out and waved at the food truck painted a bright blue advertising fish and chips. There was a small queue of people waiting and the smell of deliciousness wafted around them. Q leaned forward without thinking.

“Bond. I’ve no time for riddles. What is this?”

“Lunch.”

Q looked surprised. “Lunch. You? A food truck? Did you hit your head?”

“Yes. Multiple times actually. But I’m hungry, this is a gem of a traveling establishment, you snob and I have the day off.”

Q lifted an eyebrow and crinkled his nose at Bond. “ONE day off?”

Bond tipped his head side to side as if it were on a scale. “Maybe more, but I’ll start with today. So, what’ll you have?”

Q shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, unsure, Bond thought until he heard Q’s stomach growl and then Q’s shoulders dropped. “Well, I suppose I could eat something.”

“Excellent.”

They joined the queue, now three people longer and settled in to wait. To Bond, the silence was welcoming. He kept an eye on their surroundings as Q did whatever it was he did on his phone. When it was their turn, Q finally put his device away and jammed his hands in his pockets and glanced at the menu. He leaned in to whisper to Bond. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Bond’s lips curled into a smile and ordered. “I’ll have two house specials.”

The harried-looking cooks behind the small opening of the truck gave him a thumbs up and soon Q was holding a paper box filled with piping hot portions of fish, chips and mushy peas. Q stuffed his face as Bond yet again steered him around, Q didn’t know or care, he was buried in his trough. 

Q came to his senses once in a while to answer a question Bond asked or to sit and ponder quietly an idea Bond had for a new gadget. He’d get excited and draw in the air with his finger how it COULD be done, not that he could do it, but that if he COULD do it, then it should be done that way.

At one point, Q did notice his surroundings. “Are we on a train?” Before he dismissed the idea that didn’t need to take up any of his mind palace, as Sherlock would say. Hmm. There’s a thought, he finally understood what his manic, idiot brother was talking about. Anyway, Q was digressing. 

The train came to a stop and Bond prodded Q to exit while he was still in mid-conversation about jet-propelled bicycles. They arrived at a very familiar looking plaza and Q stopped talking. 

“I know this place.”

Bond grinned down at him. “We didn’t have the opportunity to appreciate it fully the first time we were here.”

“I never got to see any of it outside school field trips and the occasional family outing.”

“You have a family?”

“None that I care to talk about. Pompous arses the lot of them. Except for my eldest brother. He’s okay. Mostly. And you? Do you have a family?” Q stopped and flapped his mouth open and shut for a brief moment. As if he’d forgotten all about Skyfall and Blofeld.

Bond shrugged. “None that I care to talk about. Pompous arses the lot of them. ESPECIALLY my eldest brother.” He made finger quotes when he came to the word brother.

“Sorry, sorry,” Q said, slicing his hand through the air.

They took the steps up the National Portrait Gallery where Bond paid the entrance fee. Q moved to snag a map, but Bond stayed his hand. 

“Let’s just explore on our own. No agenda.”

Q’s green eyes, distorted behind his glasses, blinked once before he nodded his head. “No agenda.”

The two of them meandered through the Gallery silently. Sometimes they’d analyze a piece, other times they’d just stare quietly at something they found profound. Eventually they got to the piece that had started their journey, the Turner. Bond pushed his coat back and sat down. Q followed. He leaned back on his arms and together they studied the piece.

“What do you see?” Q asked.

Bond couldn’t help it. The small chuckle of mirth escaped. 

Q nudged him with his elbow. “Go on, what do you see?”

Bond leaned back on his arms, mimicking Q’s posture and turned to him. “You. I see you.”


End file.
